'May mock my arm, and make the Anvil ring;
'Then if in rags.--But, O my heart, forbear,--
'I love the Girl, and why should I despair?
'And that I love her all the village knows;
'Oft from my pain the mirth of others flows;
'As when a neighbour's Steed with glancing eye
'Saw his par'd hoof supported on my thigh:
'Jane pass'd that instant; mischief came of course;
'I drove the nail awry and lam'd the Horse;
'The poor beast limp'd: I bore a Master's frown,
'A thousand times I wish'd the wound my own.
'When to these tangling thoughts I've been resign'd,
'Fury or languor has possess'd my mind,

_Recollections_.

'All eyes have stared, I've blown a blast so strong;
'Forgot to smite at all, or smote too long.
'If at the Ale-house door, with careless glee
'One drinks to Jane, and darts a look on me;
'I feel that blush which her dear name will bring,
'I feel:--but, guilty Love, 'tis not thy sting!
'Yet what are jeers? the bubbles of an hour;
'Jane knows what Love can do, and feels its pow'r;
'In her mild eye fair Truth her meaning tells;
'Tis not in looks like her's that falsehood dwells.
'As water shed upon a dusty way
'I've seen midst downward pebbles devious stray;
'If kindred drops an adverse channel keep,
'The crystal friends toward each other creep;